


Surrender at Discretion

by Tizian23



Category: Jimmy Page - Fandom, Led Zeppelin, Robert Plant - Fandom
Genre: Cheeky Robert, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Frottage, Jimmy Page - Freeform, Jimmy in the tube, Lace, M/M, True Love, Zepprompts, hints of bossyRobert, jimbert - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23448442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tizian23/pseuds/Tizian23
Summary: The boys need to get to the airport and get stuck in traffic. so they take the train and Robert finds s way to distract a slightly anxious Jimmy.
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Surrender at Discretion

**Author's Note:**

> this was a writers prompt on Tumblr paired with a picture of a very long escalator.  
> it was supposed to be a Drabble but well... now its 3400 words of .... filth.  
> I needed to write some.  
> Robert needed to get some.  
> Jimmy loved it.  
> Fun was had by all.  
> Except G:  
> He thinks they are bonkers.  
> yay.  
> ❤️

„No we won’t!” he stops dead in his tracks, inopportunely in the middle of the street and tries to give me a deadly stare which doesn’t really work as intended because he looks just too adorable with his scarf unraveling, every lock of his hair askew and the most riveting blush on his cheeks. He is panting like I just did some truly unspeakable things to him. If he‘d get any paler, he would.  
“But we need to or Peter is gonna have our hides. Yours for the mantel piece mine for the dinner room; I reckon.“ We are running down Finchley Road from the corner were we just jumped out of the cab. It was supposed to take us to the airport after we had insisted on taking our own car so we’d sleep in but then we got stuck in traffic after leaving the hotel late. Ok it was my fault but I needed to… Oh well, what can a boy do if he just found out he’s allowed to bang Jimmy Page?  
So I pull him, his scandalised pout and his guitar case over to the tube. As we enter St Johns Wood station I decide I don’t want to teach him how to dodge fare or skip barriers just today so I fish a handful of copper coins out of my jeans pocket to buy tickets from the machines while he stands next to me flabbergasting with his case in his arm and that pout that now is accompanied by a stubborn frown.  
“ Jimmy, when was the last time you took the tube?” I ask him while slipping the tickets into the barriers after taking his guitar from his indignant hands to give it to the conductor who seems more occupied with staring at my hair than moving the oversized case over the barrier. When he hands it back to me on the other side he notices the handle of Jimmys riding crop peeking out of his black suitcase over my shoulder. The nonplussed look he gives us works as a reminder that we might not be as used to the real world outside lush hotel lobbies and airport lounges as I like to tell myself. I turn around walking backwards to look at him trailing after me in petulant silence.  
“ I don’t know… 1967… maybe 66? It was never necessary after that one time.” he finally snaps. I am shaking my head in amused disbelief at his snooty tone.  
We head towards the looooooong and surprisingly empty escalator. Jim eyes it like it might bite him before hesitantly stepping on it, balancing the guitar case on the tip of his black patent leather shoe while pulling his coat sleeve over his hand before he touches the railing.  
I stand very close behind him on the long way down as he turns around and gives me an frazzled look. He has to look up to me. Pulling his runaway scarf back over his shoulder I want to say something but drop it when I see the way his eyes widen suddenly.  
“ When you havent done your hair its rather …fluffy.” His fingers come peeking out of the coat sleeve to touch my mane thats still slightly wet from the shower. “ With the light behind you like this it looks like a halo…like you are a saint on a Russian ikon … on your way to heaven.”  
“ Jimmy, we are heading downwards. To the underword, if you will. “  
“ Aye, my golden angel; head in the gutter, eyes always on the stars… “  
“ I am not… where is my mind in the gutter? Wha..” His grasshopper green eyes dip down from my face to the crop in the suitcase and back up again. His smile sweet and innocent like a choirboy. I can basically see the filth in his head. 

We find the right platform precisely as the train comes in. His face does this weird snoot that means he feels overwhelmed when he sees how tightly packed the train is. I blaze a trail for us through the people who politely step aside when they see our luggage and the guitar in his arm.Well I guess that’s the difference between London and Pangbourne after all. Not even the doormen would open doors for us hippies there and here they make room for our rockstar equipment in the most overcrowded train- and with a smile at that.  
The guitar leaning in the corner we try to find a way to stand for our long ride to London City Airport. Everyone around us is busy with newspapers and books or their mates. No one is looking at us. And certainly no one has recognised us which is nothing but a miracle. But I gives me an idea. Gonna give you Russian saint, you cheeky sod. I pull him by the coat sleeve.  
“ Hmm..?” Its a sleepy, intimate sound. Like I disturbed him in a day dream. I hope its a dirty one cos that would just fit the topic. He turns his head to look at me through the cloud of hair he hid himself in as he hung after his obscure Jimmy thoughts.  
“ Come here” I mouth at him, pulling his sleeve again. He shuffles closer with a curious face.  
“ Closer.” Pulling his coat aside I carefully slip a knee between his and a hand around his hips. His eyes get wide and dark as he catches on. He looks like he wants to say something but thinks better. My hand runs up his back under his coat feeling his skin under his white shirt. I can smell his hair and the Earl Grey on his breath. His back arches under my hand like a greedy, affectionate cat. I stroke down to the small of his back, mindlessly in love with the feeling of warm skin under silk. He doesn’t look at me but when my fingers reach the top of his jeans his eyes close. I slip my hand under the waistband and press my fingertips to his naked skin where the shirt ends. His lips part and he lets the press of my fingers drive him closer to me. Surreptitiously he slides closer, riding higher up on my thigh between his until his hot bulge touches my hipbone. His lashes flutter and slowly raise to reveal his eyes look up at me with a delicious mix of deviousness and the sweetest fluster.  
“OK?!” I ask him wordlessly and instead of an answer a blush blooms up on his pale cheeks. He rubs against me. Very slowly. Tiny little moves. Circling his hips, riding my thigh, the hard press of his cock between us. His face as aloof and distracted next to me like he’s reading the morning newspaper. I feel the feverheat caught between us in his coat raise and he is so hard between my legs. His breath stutters. My hand slips deeper down his trousers foregoing his pants to rest lightly on top of the soft curve of his arse. The tips of my fingers on his skin are 5 little drops.  
His sweat and mine mingling on his skin that -I tell myself- only I have ever touched like this.

Slowly I lean in, catching his eyes with mine, sharing the fire he stirs in me. I can tell he knows how steel wired our little game makes me feel. And he turns the pegs just a bit tighter. His mouth drops open, his foot taps a beat only he hears- a lot faster than any heartbeat would be. Its almost a bit like shaking. I wonder if I have gone too far. He’s got not a single exibitionist bone in this breathtaking body that he hides so carefully under many and more layers of silk and cashmere, buttery soft leather and bespoken jeans that cost more than my whole stage clothing together. But he had followed my cue so very willingly so I guess he’s in the mood to play no matter how risky it might be. Funnily enough he is very outspoken about the things he wants but if he doesn’t like something he just says nothing. And expects you to stop doing it anyway. I have not yet decoded if that is part of the game or if its means he actually wants to be well… forced. Peter is better in reading the meaning underneath his words. Maybe he just knows Jimmy better. However, right now I wonder if I’d make him come like this and if he’ d want that or be embarressed by it afterwards. He still moves very clandestinely with me when suddenly the train driver slams on the brakes and the whole car and its occupants are thrown first backwards then forward in the car. Everyone but Jimmy who holds onto me and crowds me into the corner, hand on my belt just above my arse and myself leaning hard back on his guitar case. I reach for the rail next to his head to hold on to; my other still on his naked skin under his clothes. Now he is so close that our crotches are definitely touching, perfectly hidden by his coat. His face almost in my hair. While everyone around us is sorting out the damages, fishing for lost books, stray lighters and hats flown away, wiping strangers hairs out of their face I carefully eye him from the side and whisper in his ear :  
“ Do you want to see my favourite magic trick?” 

He doesn’t look half as scandalised as I thought he would be. More curious than hesitant, but he shakes his head. His eyes are wide and greener than Albions hills in the spring. I want to see his face when he comes so I press myself against him and let my hand in his back finally slip down to his arse. That alone is enough to make him gasp. So I take it further and rub my own hard cock through both our jeans on his and circle my hips into him. Round and round and his blush deepens. There is a tiny drop sweat that runs down the side his face, the only sign that he is not wound up in some daydream about distance miking, 1000 note riffs and wha-whas. Now I can feel his hand on my back …. it finger tips over my belt up my under my t-shirt.. the opposite direction of where my hand is going on him.  
My hand is slippery with our sweat and when I pinch him hard into the soft wet skin of his right cheek with my nails he squeaks. Its the cutest noise I have ever heard him make. As a reward I rub my hips harder against the hot hard line of want in his pants. I don’t even wanna get off myself, I just want to see him lose it. Completely and utterly and come in his pants like a teenage boy.

“ Do you remember when you didn’t want me to make you come again in the shower?” I whisper so softly that not even his hair moves with my breath. He side eyes me with a almost imperceptible nod. “ I was on my knees on the tiles behind you and had my tongue up your… “ with that I slide my hand finally deep enough into his pants to tap the exact sweet spot I had my tongue at. His eyes glaze over in the quarter of a second, he gasps out a shattered breath that could mean everything from my name over “Gods, Yes!” to ”No, please don’t!” or perhaps “ You naughty lil swine, what are you doing to me?" or "I`ll give you a spanking you won’t forget as soon as I get you alone.”  
I move my lips closer to his ear, so he feels my breath on his skin when I continue: “Do you know how you sound when you moan my name, sweetheart? Its makes me so hard just thinking about it. And that noise you made when I licked you the first time…you were so good for me, so soft, opening up for me so easy… you wanted it, you needed it …so bad.”  
I press a gentle finger against his over sensitive, tight little opening, still a bit sore from last nights shenanigans. His mouth drops open, silent little pants come with every move of his hips.  
“ Look at me, you want me to make you come?“  
I brush my finger against him again. Not dipping in just running around the rim, slicked by sweat. Finally he turns his head and looks straight in my face… he shakes his head; this time notably. I smile at him like I just handed him a cup of tea, touching his neck, wiping away that little drop of sweat, fingers slipping under his hair, raising his chin with my thumb, making it impossible for him to look away or hide in his hair. I still my hips against him, pressing our heat together, holding him there, balanced in-between “ Yes” and “ No”, “ Please!” and “ Don’t!”. His mouth is open and all I want to do is kiss him, slip my tongue in and kiss him breathless and hungry, taste him, taste myself on him. I raise my leg between his on the tiptoe, caressing his balls, pressing against his cock with my hip. My finger against him putting the tiniest point of force right into his heated centre. Thats when it happens. His hand under my t-shirt digs in, running four sharp nails down my back as he tries not to moan out loud, his body stiffening. I feel his cock twitch against mine, heat spreading, he bites his lip with almost pain filled hiss. When he opens his eyes again they are brighter than I have ever seen them before, he is sparkling with mischief but I know there will be hell to pay. 

“ I said NO, ” he grins. Basking in the afterglow.  
“ And I heard you.“ I think he drew blood on my back with those sharp nails. It smarts quite a bit now. “ But I saw you too.” His hand strokes my back under my shirt. The cat has retreated the claws for now. So I run my hand over the smooth swell of his arse up to the small of his back; this breathstealing slope to rest in. I notice that the next stop is the airport and congratulate myself silently to an impeccable timing. The train has emptied out a little and it’s mainly bankers and airport workers now who pay us no mind. When he pulls his hand away I see indeed blood under his nails before his fingers disappear into the coat sleeve again. 

The train stops and we carefully unwind our intricate knot of arms and legs from each other before grabbing our luggage and getting flushed out the doors, down the platform with the stream of people. He walks next to me merrily swinging his guitar case back and forth as we step on the next long escalator.  
No hesitating this time; his lovely pale face still sporting a “ Just Fucked” - flush and a relaxed grin. He says nothing but wiggles his bum a bit to arrange himself in his doubtlessly very sticky pants.  
“ Now I need to find the little boys room before we meet the others, ok?” I was still halfway expecting him to at some point go ballistic on me for getting him into this mess but it becomes quite evident he utterly loved what just happened. When we finally walk up to the boys, Cole and Peter nervously circling around each other in the terminal hall they all seem to breath a sigh of relief. Peter walks towards us with a thunderous face.  
Jimmy pulls me to a stop and sticks his hand into his little bag over my shoulder, pulling the crop out, feeling around for something. As Peter closes in on us I say:  
“ Oh Dear, he looks really pissed off. You won’t leave me alone now, will ya?”  
“ Come on, he loves you, Sunshine, just tell him you needed time to take your rollers out.” Says it, pulls his hand out, presses his guitar in my one and the crop in the other hand and is gone like the wind in the opposite direction.  
When Peter and I meet in the middle of the hall he looks after Jimmy like he sees Napoleon fleeing Waterloo.  
“ The fack's he goin now?”  
“ Rest rooms,“ I shrug without any ostentation. G stops in front of me, staring after Jimmy with a worried face before taking the guitar case from my hand as we walk over the the boys who now have stopped circling like sharks but are sitting down; smoking and chatting. “ Is he quite alright? Them ol' collywobbles again?”  
“ What? No, he just needs the rest room, don’t worry.”  
“ Jim would NEVER use a public rest room, much less at an airport. Are you sure he’s not feeling sick again?”  
“ Yes I am absolutely sure. In fact he just forgot to put on uhm… something.”  
“ Jimmy forgot his knickers??? Jesus. How the fack…” he looks at the crop in my hand. “You know what…don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know .” 

There is a huge commotion once we reach the boys, our other band half and the team. Everybody talks fast and loud at the same time and demands to know how it happens that we are late, if I couldn’t get my rollers out in time, if we really came by tube, did we not get mobbed, did the old girl not have a meltdown about tardiness in general and mine specifically and where is he anyway. I calm everyone down, stuff the crop back into the bag, tell them how we took the trains and how Pagey liked it actually,  
(Not to which degree and what I did to distract him though).  
When Jimmy comes finally walking over to us, he is still wearing this fetching smile and looks completely at ease (which seems to calm G down considerably). He comes to stand by my side after he waved at everyone and answered the same questions I already got asked. He puts something in the pocket of my jacket and says with a massive blush:  
“ Here have a little keepsake to this memorable day when the little sunshine boy for the first time did not take a No for an answer- twice!”  
Then he turns slightly towards me, lifts his shirt and adds: ” Also I grabbed the wrong pants from the suitcase. Now I am wearing …this!”  
Peeking over the waistband of his jeans I see a strip of pink lace and some rose-printed silk.  
“ What … why do you have that your suitcase anyway?” I am roaring with laughter.  
“ Well we fly to L.A… it was meant to be a present.”  
“ Aww, always the courteous ladies man plying the Valley Girls with English roses. So now you are wearing Miss Pamelas’ silk knickers?”  
“ Uhm, yes.” He pulls down his jeans a little to show them a bit better just as Bonzo comes over to ask for cigarettes. Briefly our poor drummer looks like a lightning struck him before Jimmy with a snigger explains how he grabbed the wrong pants in the haste. For a second its very quiet, then Bonzo turns around and yells at the rest of the boys, our manager and tour entourage how Pagey's wearing pink knickers and come here and look at them. In the ensuing minor riot he’s forced to retell the story and show the pink lace strip off to basically everyone in the team. G says nothing but looks heavily burdened and amused at the same time.  
When we are finally called to board the airplane Jimmy murmurs to me:  
“ How odd that no one asked the real question. Don’t you think?”  
“ If all your pants are silk?”  
Jonsey catches up with us, looks over and says in an offhanded matter of fact way:  
“ No, Robert! If your knickers are baby blue or a paler pink than Jimmies!” 

Botheration

❤︎❤︎

.


End file.
